Posts Tagged ‘friends’
Counting Candles
No, I didn’t actually count them. I did ask one of the staff how many candles and their response was, “A lot!” Last night we met our friends Barb and Mike for dinner at the self-proclaimed “hip, urban venue” Cafe Lurcat next to Loring Park in Minneapolis and then moved to the spectacle in a spectacle of a candlelight concert by a string quartet in St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral.
It looked as fascinating with the lights on as it did with them off, although the warm glow was a better setting for the performance of string quartet music from Bach to The Beatles. It almost felt like I was getting some high culture, except for the welcome casualness of the hostess and performers combined with tunes I actually grew up listening to.
It was nothing short of supremely cool. I am in awe of the musician’s abilities and really grateful that people rally to put on shows like this. Really, that’s a lot of candles.
No candles for us today. World Labyrinth Day has arrived and we’ve got lots of last-minute preparation to finish. Our landscape is soaking wet after multiple dousings yesterday, but if the next round of passing showers could hold off until after 3:00, that would be just great.
Let the wave of peace pass over the world uninterrupted! It’s already rolling along…
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Mud Returns
Pick your adage: Be careful what you wish for. What could possibly go wrong? You never know how things will turn out. How much worse can it get?
It’s March. We are ready to be done plowing and shoveling snow. We are looking forward to seeing the ground again. We want the snow to melt. However, the ground doesn’t suddenly thaw out all at once. Just like it freezes from the top layer on down, it melts in the very same way.
Well, the top layer has thawed just beyond the overhang and it is now a muddy, mucky mess. The water can’t soak into the ground because the next layer down is still frozen solid. Water is just standing in hoof-sized pools.
My perpetual quest to clean up manure beneath and around the overhang promptly becomes an unwinnable battle when fresh droppings land in the pockmarked slurry of muck the horses keep walking in. It is a Sisyphean task that I nonetheless continue to wage despite the mess and my limited success.
Meanwhile, the space beneath the roof suddenly becomes an even more luxurious oasis than it usually is.
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The long day of drizzling rain was beginning to become sleet blown sideways by gusty winds when I went down to feed the horses at dinnertime. Beneath the overhang, it was calm and dry. Once again, I found myself praising the location and orientation of this barn.
The mud might be around for a long time to come in the days and weeks ahead but we are already starting to get antsy for conditions to allow me to get back to landscaping projects and Cyndie to try walking the uneven terrain down to the labyrinth. We have hopes of being able to promote World Labyrinth Day on May 6 this year if the ground dries up enough for hosting larger gatherings by then.
I’d like to offer a shout-out to friends, Patty and Steve who plan to visit us in April to experience Wintervale in person for the first time. Here’s to the gift of unexpected connections/reconnections that seem divinely inspired. Thanks for reaching out to us, Patty!
We are three days from the vernal equinox. I’m sensing spring is preparing to be sprung. Is that too much to wish for?
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Subscription Confirmation
What did I click on without realizing it? I have no doubt that possibly happened. I also would not be surprised to learn that this company which I’m not going to bother naming chose to subtly opt me in without informing me.
I received an email with the subject line: “Subscription Confirmation.”
“You’ve accepted the following offer”
“Your subscription automatically renews until canceled.”
Huh? Wasn’t me. Cyndie assures me that she didn’t subscribe to anything. Ten bucks a month if we didn’t notice and cancel.
I will take great comfort in whatever struggle is involved in asserting my intention to get this subscription canceled.
More pressing things are on my mind as we pack up to drive home this afternoon. Mother Nature is keeping me occupied by delivering messy precipitation before I finished clearing all the snow that fell last Thursday. In our haste to drive to the lake on Friday, I left the deep snow around the hay shed and in front of the barn unplowed. I also didn’t finish clearing snow off the pavement in front of the shop.
As we were leaving Friday with our eyes on yesterday’s American Birkebeiner ski race adventures and a weekend with our friends, the Williams family, I felt it was well worth skipping out on snow-clearing chores at home.
UMD student Ella skied the big 50K race in pretty decent winter conditions. I thought the wind was a little brisk for spectating, but that would be a rather petty complaint to make in the face of the many hours-long efforts the skiers exert.
This morning my phone alerted me to a storm warning for tonight and tomorrow at home that will start with rain and turn to snow. I really dread dealing with that on top of the areas of snow I have yet to clear.
I didn’t sign up for that. In fact, I’d like to cancel any subscriptions that involve rain during our winter months.
Thank goodness the ski race in Hayward happened in good snow conditions. Just moments ago, while I was writing this in the sunroom overlooking the frozen lake where several deer had run across toward the island, one of the local eagles flew into the large pine tree just beyond our deck.
It did some wiggling with wings flailing on the far side of the trunk and Cyndie wondered if the eagle was eating something. Then the powerful bird took flight with a good-sized branch it had broken from the tree and headed for its nest over our tennis court on the far side of the fateful footbridge over the lagoon.
I would rather sign up for more of this than tomorrow’s weather adventures expected to occur at home.
But heck, either way… ADVENTURE!
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Accident Scene
Something clicked when we reached the intersection of Hwys 63 & 77 in Hayward. I told Cyndie I felt a moment of post-traumatic stress at the sight of the interchange as it triggered a memory of driving through it toward the emergency room at Hayward Hospital.
I went through that intersection twice more that night, on the way to and from the pharmacy in Walmart where I also needed to find wide-leg sweatpants for Cyndie to put on before leaving the hospital. I found a mauve-colored, elastic waist velvet number that Cyndie is prone to describing as “hideous” but she always follows that with the clarification that she loves them and they became her favorite pant during those weeks of recovery.
I asked Cyndie if she wanted to revisit the scene of her accident last November at the footbridge over the lagoon.
Without hesitation, her response was an emphatic “NO!”
Beyond the fact she didn’t want to get that close to the memory right now, the amount of snow and her hobbled condition make that walk ill-advised. From the comfort of the cabin, I took a photo in the general direction of that bridge.
I didn’t feel like walking out there, either.
In fact, we are watching the start of the American Birkebeiner while snugged on the couch.
We will be heading out to see Ella Williams ski her second Birkie after her wave crosses the start line. Trying to pick her out of the online streamed view of the thousand skiers staging for their wave is our first thrill of the day.
Soon we will don our winter wear and venture out to a convenient crossing at 00 (doublel-oh) to cheer her on in person. Then we will drive to town to watch the finish.
It will be an interesting test of how much walking Cyndie’s ankle will tolerate outdoors in the cold.
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Fine Grill
Despite the dreary conditions yesterday –rain all day in February!?– Cyndie and I braved the low-visibility drive to meet our friends halfway for dinner on Valentine’s Day. Barb and Mike drove east from the far side of Lake Minnetonka and we drove west from our place and we arrived at the St. Paul Grill at the same time –ten minutes before our 6:00 reservation.
Their car was immediately in front of us in the line for valet service. What were the odds of that?
It is such a treat to be pampered by professionals on a night out at a fine-dining restaurant. The doorman wearing a deadman wool felt top hat guided us in dropping off and picking up our cars with wonderful panache. He had us feeling like Hollywood royalty.
Once seated at our table, we met our server, Hillary, who paced everything to a T with the support of a precision crew of runners and bussers.
I guess it proved the adage of getting what you pay for because this was not an inexpensive night out.
It would have been great if I’d captured a shot of the scrumptious food as soon as our plates arrived but doing anything other than eating when dinner is placed in front of me becomes near impossible.
By the time I thought to pull out my phone to capture a record of the aftermath, it was all napkins and coffee cups. You miss out on seeing the fancy Delmonico ribeye steaks, pan-fried walleye, signature hashbrowns with bacon and white onions, and asparagus spears with hollandaise.
Since it was Valentine’s Day, conversation was peppered with recollections of our first dates, engagements, and some foggy details about discovering first pregnancies. I won’t go into detail about the story of a card from a game that read: cooler of organs being misread as “cooler of orgasms.”
Our hearts were filled to overflowing with great friends and great food leading to a really great night out. We didn’t let all that rain dampen our spirits one tiny bit.
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Prom Night
It might be a little early in the calendar year for the school prom but that’s where we were last night. Cyndie, Elysa, and I made the long drive to the Chanhassen Dinner Theater to attend a performance of “The Prom” because a Hays relation is in a leading role.
Elysa got us discounted tickets provided to MacPhail Center for Music which led to a festive number of connections throughout the evening.
In a wonderful web of fewer than six degrees of association, Cyndie and I met Austin Wahl. See if you can follow this:
- Our friend, Gary Larson hosts periodic music evenings in his home and invited me to play guitar.
- On one of these occasions, we meet his friend, Ned Wahl who also plays guitar.
- We soon learn that Ned already knows our daughter, Elysa through his interactions at MacPhail.
- Ned’s son, Austin takes a position teaching at MacPhail.
Elysa was exchanging greetings with multiple people from MacPhail connections early on. When she said, “This is Austin Wahl,” Cyndie and I exclaimed, “Ned’s son!”
That was a wonderful bonus on top of the main attraction of our night. Monty Hays performs in the role of Emma, an Indiana teen whose prom is canceled because she is a lesbian who wanted to bring her girlfriend as her date.
Monty’s dad is my nephew, Beau Hays, son of my brother, Elliott.
Family resemblance? If not clearly apparent in our faces, the mannerisms tend to be revealing.
We guessed that it has been 13 years since we have seen each other. Beau reminded me that he has yet to visit our place in Wisconsin because he missed the big family gathering in 2014 when a tire blew out on his way here.
We’ll have to remedy that because brief greetings amidst a swirl of energy during the opening weekend at a dinner theater among friends and multiple generations of family relations is a tad chaotic. They need to come to hang out with some horses and linger with us.
Opening night of “The Prom” was Friday but Monty’s parents, Beau and Katy, were out of town until yesterday, so this was their first time seeing the show. We gathered in the bar after the show to greet Monty where emotions ran high at the sight of not only Mom and Dad, but also unexpected relatives.
A rare sighting of these five Hays relations in one place at the same time.
Monty’s performance is stellar and the musical is an entertaining dose of humor, real-life drama, live music, great singing, and impressive dance routines.
A STORY OF LOVE, ACCEPTANCE AND EMBRACING THE PERSON YOU WERE MEANT TO BE!
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Blind Spot
In my opinion, eyewitness testimony is not as reliable as it is generally made out to be. After a recent incident of missing puzzle pieces, I have lost all confidence in my own ability to see what’s right in front of my face.
Upon completing the first of the latest puzzles my sister shared with us, there were two missing pieces. Having knocked plenty off the table while assembly was in progress, my initial response was to search the rug below. I laid down to scan the surface but found nothing.
A day later, we spread out the 2000 pieces of the next puzzle. I assembled all but one piece of the border and started wondering if that last piece might have fallen to the floor. By merely bending over to scan the floor, I instantly caught sight of one of the missing pieces from the previous puzzle.
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Where the heck was that piece when I looked for it the day before? More importantly, how did my eyes fail to see what was laying out in plain sight?
A short while later, between drying baking bowls and utensils, I spotted the last border piece that had been evading my eyes up to that point. I had abandoned the Vikings game after it became an obvious losing effort to join the party going on in the kitchen. Since my skills aren’t in the preparation of food, I make my contribution by cleaning up afterward.
Our friend, Melissa and our daughter, Elysa came for the day to help Cyndie in a second round of Christmas Cookie baking.
Unfortunately for me, I don’t seem to have any difficulty seeing the expanse of cookie options covering our countertops. My A1C levels might not be at their preferred number for a while.
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Friendly Spectating
Of all the spectator sports I follow, the FIFA World Cup is very near the top. The only disadvantage keeping it from number one is that it only happens every four years. At the same time, that long wait between events helps to amp up the interest when the year of a Cup finally arrives.
Living as far from our friends in the Twin Cities as we do, I usually find myself sitting alone in front of our television taking in the grand spectacle of the games. Yesterday, we didn’t let that distance stop us from accepting an invitation from our friend, John Bramble, even though his team, England, was the opponent of the U.S. in this game.
We were entering the lion’s den.
It was Cyndie’s first outing on crutches where she encountered stairs. With little recent practice, she tentatively but successfully made her way inside where we found our gracious host had provided a seat reserved just for her.
With tea and biscuits, we enjoyed a jovial 90-minute (plus minor stoppage time) celebration of the beautiful game. Both sides were left short of a victory since the match ended in a scoreless draw, but since England was favored, the moral victory went to the U.S.
To show his dissatisfaction with the outcome, our host dramatically removed his “England” shirt and threw it to the floor and stomped on it. John said the elaborate exhibition was actually just a rehearsal for the eventual point when England gets knocked from the tournament.
I can relate to that thought process. I’m not anticipating the U.S. team will exceed anyone’s expectations and the moment they fail to advance, I will be able to relax and enjoy the rest of the tournament with no strong connection to any of the possible outcomes.
Yesterday’s taste of watching a match among a group of like-minded football [soccer] fans was a refreshing reminder of how much fun it is to share the joys of watching sports with friends.
Thank you for inviting us, John Bramble, despite the team I was rooting for. Cyndie voluntarily chose to cheer for England in solidarity with our gracious host, since he was significantly outnumbered.
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Hiking Afton
A hike in the woods along the scenic St. Croix River is always good for what ails, especially on an uncharacteristically summery day in the second half of October in the greater Twin Cities. Even better, doing it with precious friends and sharing a picnic lunch adds a magical essence of energizing endorphins.
We met Pam and John at Afton State Park early enough in the day that a second layer with long sleeves helped to tide us over until the heat of a summer day settled in. Pam and I first connected on a group trek in the Himalayas in 2009, the one that served as inspiration for me to start this blog. The mixture of terrain in the park and the marvelous conversations yesterday sparked remembrances for both of us of the weeks we shared over a decade ago in Nepal.
Driving to the Minnesota side of the St. Croix river from our house, I witnessed a phenomenon in the sky that was a first for me. High winds had pushed some clouds 90° from flat to straight up. On an otherwise unremarkable-weather morning, such an anomaly in the sky seemed incredibly remarkable to me.
I can only wonder what that would have been like for a small plane if one were in the vicinity.
My drive home included a different kind of excitement in the sky in the form of smoke. Actually, I smelled it before I saw it and the instant impression I had was alarm over the possibility of a brush fire on this hot and windy day with the extremely dry conditions our drought has caused.
I had just come through River Falls and finally spotting the thickness and depth of the smoke served to heighten my level of concern. Then I came upon a bright orange temporary road sign indicating a “prescribed burn” in progress.
“In these conditions?!!” I thought to myself.
Cyndie and I had traveled in separate cars as she had overnight plans with a friend in the Cities and drove west from Afton after our picnic and I returned home to take care of the horses and Delilah.
A short distance after the sign, my anxiousness dropped significantly at the sight of an incredible number of strategically parked vehicles and some big equipment, indicating this was not some short-sighted amateur operation. Still, it seemed to me like the weather conditions would have given them reason to pick another time for such a risky endeavor. I have no idea what the purpose was for the burn at that location.
Enquiring minds would like to know.
Good thing for me the residual endorphins from the good time hiking and picnicking in Afton State Park with John and Pam survived that brief, smoky disruption to my serenity on the drive home.
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Swift Switch
We were not expecting to wake up to such a wintery scene yesterday morning as the one that greeted us as darkness faded enough to reveal whiteness covering our deck.
Ever one to playfully re-interpret reality, before Cyndie opened her eyes, I told her that it didn’t rain overnight like we had expected. The early dose of measurable snowfall made about the same impression on our Japanese silver grass as it did on us.
It felt like a great day to stay in bed a little longer than usual and be warm under covers but duty called and we dug boots from deep in the closet, spilling a pile of things out in the process, and took Delilah for a walk before feeding the horses.
Speaking of horses, yesterday we had a visit from the nutritionist from This Old Horse who measured each of our Thoroughbred mares and issued a pleasing assessment that they all looked really, really good and healthy.
They have gained weight as hoped. We’ve been giving Mix an extra serving of feed pellets per day and we will begin doing the same with Mia to keep them on track toward a goal of optimal robustness. Mia, especially, could use a bit more body fat to cope at this time of year. She was pretty shivery at the start of the day. We are going to get a moisture-wicking blanket for her to help during these in-between weeks of cold precipitation.
Their winter blankets would be a bit much at this point. She just needs a raincoat.
Mix likes using mud for a covering. She rubbed her face firmly to paint her cheeks thoroughly and looked proud of her appearance after she stood up again.
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By the end of the day the snow had disappeared and this morning there are areas of blue sky overhead. We are feeling a new urgency about finishing a few projects that require we be able to see the ground, including one that involves digging dirt before it freezes.
We also still need to shut down and pull the pump from our landscape pond. It looked strange to see the water flowing with everything covered in snow. I pulled a snow shovel out to clear the steps yesterday morning, feeling it was way too soon to be doing so.
Time marches on. We are having our grief over Pequenita’s passing poked by continuing to find her toys tucked under or behind furniture. Even a dust bunny of cat hair becomes a tear-jerker at this point. Thank you to all who have conveyed your support. We truly appreciate the love. ❤️
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Relative Something 